


Catching Some Zs

by DizzyBunnies



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: lance is sick but his space fam got him boiiiii
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 20:52:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13372851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyBunnies/pseuds/DizzyBunnies
Summary: Re-uploaded from my tumblr as a request:alrighty, so this is a prompt fromt @taylor-tut, who requested that lance is sick but the team passes it off as stress (while still being sympathetic), only for lance to get worse to the point where he cant even move from the couch. thanks for the prompt, and i hope yall enjoy it!!





	Catching Some Zs

The castleship was the quietest it had been in a while. Weeks, probably. Even Keith and Lance stopped their bickering—and what was more surprising was that nobody commented about it.

The team had finally gotten a break from the Galra. Allura had wormholed them  _so far_  that it would probably take days before they were found. En plus, the group had no S.O.S. signals, or anything remotely close, and so they were free to rest.

Unfortunately for one of the Paladins, however, rest was not coming easy. This burden was carried upon poor Lance’s shoulders; try as he might, but he could not find sleep. Dusk turned to dawn, and still, the boy was awake. Sleepy, but awake. His head was pounding, his chest felt tight, and he was too hot to sleep with the covers on, but too cold to sleep without them.

And so, there could only be one conclusion: he was sick.

It wasn’t crazy; probably just a small cold. However, Lance knew that it could only get worse if it went untreated, and he definitely did not want that. He decided he would bring it up over breakfast that morning.

Sleepily, the Blue Paladin made his way to the dining room. Surprisingly—or not so surprisingly, considered he had been up all night—he wasn’t the last one there.

“Mornin’.” Hunk greeted, feeding himself a spoonful of space food goo.

“Hey,” Lance replied. Only then did he realise how scratchy his throat felt. He mentally added it to his list of symptoms. He quickly prepped himself a bowl of the slime and plopped down next to Hunk. Wordlessly, he scooped up a chunk of the goo, stared at it a moment, and decided he wasn’t hungry. Hunk noticed him gently placing his spork back into his bowl and raised an eyebrow.

“Not hungry?” The Yellow Paladin asked. Lance shrugged. “Tired?” Lance nodded. Hunk put his own spork down— _cling—_ and pushed his chair out slightly, turning to face his friend. “You alright?”

“Ehhh,” Lance pushed his bowl away from himself, “didn’t sleep last night. I think I have a cold or somethin’.” Hunk’s eyebrows knitted in concern, and he stood up, bowl in hands. Walking over to the dish washer, he hypothesised Lance’s troubles.

“You might be stressed from how crazy the past few days have been,” he began, putting away his dishes. “Especially that last mission on Alfzar. Crazy freakin’ planet, amirite?” He added, turning around. Lance hadn’t looked up, and was messing with his food. “Maybe you should go back to your room and sleep.” It wasn’t a question, but the rising intonation at the end of his sentence led Lance to believe otherwise.

“No can do, big guy. I tried for literally nine hours last night.”

“Something on your mind?” Hunk asked, returning to his seat. They were quiet a moment, and Hunk was about to repeat his question, but eventually, Lance sighed.

“No, not really. So yeah, I’m stressed, but aren’t we all?” He said, finally looking up at his friend. Hunk noticed the bruising under Lance’s eyes, and the brightness of his cheeks. He mostly looked tired, and—if Lance’s statement was worth anything—stressed. “What if I have some weird space virus?” Freaking himself out, Lance stood up (totally not too abruptly) and raised his arms. “Holy crow, Hunk! Imagine that?! How would we cure it?  _Would_  there be a cure?”

Hunk smirked, wondering how the tables had turned. He stood up as well, placing his hands on Lance’s shoulders in a firm grasp.

“Relax, dude. Get some rest. Everyone’s doin’ it—no reason for you  _not_  to.”

Lance shrunk under his presence, almost as if feeling guilty for his outburst. After a moment of consideration, he nodded.

“Copy that. Wake me up if anything,” he said quietly. Hunk simply patted him on the back, urging him out of the room.

* * *

By noon, everyone was up and about. Nobody really had the energy to  _do_ anything, so everyone accepted the blissful silence. Everyone, sans Lance, sat around the couches in the lounge. Small chatter was made here and there, as well as a few munchies.

“Well I, for one, am enjoying the peace and quiet.” Pidge said, replying to Coran’s statement about how, quote unquote,  _boring_ things were.

“Speaking of which,” Allura added, “where’s Lance?”

Everyone turned to Hunk—and rightfully so.

“Why do you all just  _assume—”_ Before Hunk could continue, Pidge cut him off.

“Where is he?” The Green Paladin deadpanned.

“In his room.” Hunk replied, sounding defeated. Keith huffed.

“Why?” He scoffed, almost smirking. Lance resting while the others were up was a rare occurrence.

“I’m not too sure, but I think he’s just over-stressed about our last mission.” Hunk explained. “He didn’t sleep last night so he went back to his room to catch some Zs.”

“Don’t…ever say that again.” Pidge commented.

“How does one… _catch some zees_?” Allura asked, a finger to her chin.

“Now look what you’ve done!” Pidge exclaimed, arms in the air.

“Now, now,” Shiro interrupted from his spot on the other side of the room. He sat up straight on the couch, leaning forward so the others could hear him better. “If Lance is over-stressed, it’s only fair we help him out, right? Like teammates do. Like  _friends_  do.” He said, raising an eyebrow to the gang.

“Shiro’s right.” Keith added, folding his arms.

“Aw, he cares.”

“Pidge, don’t instigate.”

* * *

 

Yawning, Lance made his way to the lounge, assuming that’s where everyone would be, should they be up. Upon walking in, he was greeted by his teammates plus Coran and the princess.

“Miss me?” He asked, smirking.

“Actually, kinda,” Pidge admitted. She patted the spot next to her on the couch, and Lance made himself comfortable.

“So, my boy,” Coran started, “Hunk was telling us about a game, er— _hangman_ —played by your people. We were about to begin playing. Care to join?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Hangman?” Lance echoed aloud. “Of all things?” His tone was anything but negative, though, so the others took this as a ‘yes’.

* * *

 

Halfway through the third round was when Lance was  _definitely_ ,  _absolutely_ ,  _positively_  sure he was sick. By then, Pidge had scooted over to the left side of the couch, allowing Lance to curl up on the right side. Blankets had been fetched, and while everyone had one, Lance had two—plus his jacket—and he was still shivering. His headache, while not as bad as before, was definitely bothering him, and now (thank God he hadn’t eaten) his stomach wanted in on the whole ‘sickness’ ordeal.

Hunk had noticed almost immediately. Lance’s complexion had paled, and he couldn’t miss how Lance’s arm went flying to his midsection.

“Is there a G?” Allura asked Coran. The latter was standing in front of everyone, large interactive whiteboard set up beside him.

“Uh, sorry to interrupt, Princess.” Hunk said quickly. All eyes were on him, but once the gang saw what he was looking at, all eyes were on Lance, instead. “Lance? You okay?”

Lance could almost feel the sudden tension in the air; that’s how thick it was. Oddly enough, he wasn;t used to having this much attention on himself—well, at least not because of a  _negative_ situation. He was incredibly used to have a huge family sing  _Happy Birthday_  to him, or watch him open gifts on Christmas, or congratulate him for getting into the Garrison. But when he was sick? He only had his mother who babied him—all his siblings had an inside joke about the sick one being too contagious to be around. Every single time one of them were sick, they weren’t seen for days, except for their mom.

“Um.” He sat up slightly in alarm, as if the realisation had suddenly hit him. “I need to throw up.”

And that set everyone off. Shiro went to go grab a container, Keith got up to get a water pouch, Pidge slid off the couch and dashed to the other side, rubbing Lance’s shoulder, Allura walked out with Coran to check for anti-nausea meds, and Hunk joined Lance by Pidge’s side.

Lance was fully sitting by this point, but completely unwilling to move. Pidge and Hunk tried to coax him to stand up, but he just kept shaking his head, eyes closed and mouth covered with his hand. He swallowed thickly, as if trying to keep it all in.

Shiro couldn’t have come back sooner—the second he placed the container in Lance’s lap, the poor boy let loose. Keith then came walking in slowly, unsure of what to do. He gave the pouch to Shiro who nodded his thanks, and Keith stood behind the couch, arms crossed.

When everything was over, Shiro took the bowl to empty its contents. Lance slipped to the side of the couch once more, breathing heavily.

“I guess you really were sick, man. Sorry.” Hunk muttered.

“N-no worries,” Lance slurred. Noticing his speech pattern, Pidge put a hand to his forehead. She frowned at the touch, pulling her hand back almost right away.

“That’s some fever,” she said quietly. “We should have realised sooner…” she trailed off, somewhat sourly.

“Hey, wanna go back to your room? Y’know, change into some fresh P.J.s?” Hunk offered, lowering his head slightly to get a better view of his friend. Lance simply shook his head , slumping further into the couch. “C’mon, you’ll feel so much better.” Hunk tried. Again, Lance shook his head. Shiro came back then, just as Keith decided to make a suggestion of his own.

“Or we can go to the training deck.”

Everyone turned to Keith, giving him a look.

“What?” Keith asked, shrugging.

“He can stay on the couch. The Princess and Coran should be back soon, hopefully.”

“Hear that, bud? You’ll be fine.” Hunk said, smiling. Lance weakly tried at his own smile, but it came out sad and forced.

“Don’t worry, kiddo. You’re gonna be okay, like Hunk said. Alright?” Shiro added, sitting down on the other end of the couch.

“When you’re better, we can train together, I guess.” Keith tried, looking anywhere but at Lance. Pidge then walked around to the other side of the couch, sitting in between Shiro and Lance.

“We can totally play video games in here all day and night, and—”

“Pidge…”

“Fine. We can totally play video games in here all  _night_.”

Shiro sighed and rolled his eyes, but he was glad that Lance had so many people that cared about him. The bickering behind him soon faded out, and he eyed the Blue Paladin carefully. Lance probably had a hell of a week ahead of him, but hopefully, having so many friends nearby would help.


End file.
